Burn:
I stand upon a pedestal built of the bodies of all the good ones we’ve lost… to the hate, to the condemnation, to all of those who use their insecurities to justify killing those of us.
There’s not a lot you can say to me that I haven’t said about myself, because the greatest sin I live is being in a body I don’t fit, a body I don’t want.
A body I wish I could tear at and change, but you tell me I had the choice but this doesn’t feel like much of a choice, feels more like “God” hurling all their anger and hate into a child who didn’t want this.
If I could light a fire on my skin and let it burn, I don’t know if I would.
But I definitely wouldn’t do it for the satisfaction of those who yell to an omnipotent force that “makes” them do all the things they do.
That pedestal I stand on, the one of bodies, has all the faces of people like me, carved into it.
The ones we’ve lost.
Yet you yell at me, saying they didn’t deserved their lives because they lived in sin,
But being me is more of a sin than anything you could ever serve to me, I tread on a tightrope of love and hate - every time I tremble onto the wrong side.
The side that hurts and burns me every time.